


He's Leaving Home

by somethingconfusing



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingconfusing/pseuds/somethingconfusing
Summary: Switching between 1967 and 1960, Paul discovers that the song him and John are writing is a lot more personal to John than he realised.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! first beatles fic, please be kind :)  
> [ i-carnt-spel on tumblr ]

March - 1967

Paul forced his eyes open as his ears filled with a ringing noise, he reached out of the bed and knocked the alarm on the floor, making the noise louder and more shrill. 

“Mm Paul, turn it off” Jane mumbled into the bed covers, barely awake. He reached out and pressed the bell to silence it. 

“Sorry” Paul whispered and got out of bed already missing the cosy feeling, placing the duvet snugly around Jane. She smiled and snuggled back into the sheets. Her eyes gently shut, her cheeks reddened due to being warm under the covers. The noise of rain hitting the window filled the room.

“You’re making me not want to leave y’know” he said while cupping Jane’s face. Things weren’t the best between them but at this moment everything was rose tinted and perfect. 

“Not wanting to work? That’s not like you. Have I become a bad influence?” She chuckled as Paul leant over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“I’ll be back at 4” Paul smiled as he turned around and got dressed for the day, finally grabbing a hooded coat from the back of the door. Paul was about to say ‘love you’ and ‘goodbye’ but he realised that Jane had fallen back asleep. Smiling to himself he closed the door silently, quickly to the bathroom and then he headed downstairs. Quickly grabbed an apple and headed for the door, he noticed the newspaper on the doormat and put it under his arm as he left the house. 

Paul set off to Abbey Road Studios, he stuffed the paper under his coat wanting to read it at the studio because he’d definitely be early. The rain was just drizzle now. 

Paul arrived and headed straight for the canteen to get a coffee. It was really quiet in the building, he stirred the coffee as he walked into the main studio. Expecting the studio to be empty Paul was surprised to see John, “Didn’t think you’d be in early” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” John grumbled, looking up from where he was tuning a guitar.

“You look like you haven’t left” Paul held the coffee in front of John, “think you need this more than I do.”

John smirked and took the cup, “it better have sugar in it.”

Paul rolled his eyes and walked over to the piano setting the newspaper down and taking his coat off. His attention honed in on the front page, how had he not seen before? The paper read _‘A-Level girl dumps car and vanishes’_ with a picture of the girl, Melanie Coe. 

Paul opened up the piano and propped the paper up. He read the words over and over, something about it really resonated with him.

“Sad that” John said, leaning over Paul to see the paper better. “Good thing I had you when I felt like her.”

Paul snapped his eyes to John’s profile. _Wha- What was he talking about? John can’t be joking. He’s being serious. Oh god this was obviously important to John. John had never mentioned leaving to him. Say something!_

Paul had been lost in thought and John had gone, leaving his guitar on the floor.

“John.” Paul let out before looking around the studio, a door to the control room closed shut. Paul rushed through the door. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything” Paul sounded quieter than he intended. John who was rooting around for something gave him a quizzical look. 

“Hm?”

“You don’t want to leave do you?” Paul couldn’t look John in the eye.

John shrugged “I had wanted to. Ages ago, you caught me when I tried” 

  
  


August - 1960

Paul was taken back to Menlove Avenue, strolling down the road. He turned down the drive to John’s house and the door opened as he was about to knock on the door. John looked startled, “what you doing here?”

“I - er thought we arranged to meet up” Paul replied knowing he sounded stupid.

“Well you didn’t tell me about it” John snapped.

Paul noticed the bag over John’s shoulder, looking closer at John he noticed his face was slightly puffy and red, his hair was a mess.

“I’m -” John started and stopped himself. He breathed deeply and continued “I fancied trying hitchhiking again, see if I could get further this time” 

“Alone?” Paul said without thinking, he sounded so small. Paul knew John wasn’t telling him something but he’d only get it out of John if John wanted to tell him. 

“I didn’t-” John now walked out of the doorway and locked the door “You can come with me, if you want?” 

“I’ll have to pack a few things first” Paul followed John up the drive and down the street. 

Paul had his hands in his pockets as he and John waited for the bus that would take them past Paul’s house. 

“You got a place in mind where you want to go?” Paul broke the silence. 

“Anywhere really, just not here y’know” John moved his bag onto his other shoulder. 

Paul noticed that he hadn’t packed light, _how long was he wanting to leave for? Was he planning on telling him that he was going to leave?_

“You were going to tell me right?”

“Tell you what?” John asked as he stuck his arm out to signal the bus.

“That you were leaving!” Paul grabbed John’s shirt collar and pulled him to face him.

“Of course” John stepped back putting more space between them “I didn’t like plan it, I just-“ the bus pulled up, cutting John off. Paul stepped up on to the bus and paid for his ticket, not waiting for John before sitting down. His hands had formed fists without him realising.

John sat down next to him. “Why would I go without you?” John bit his lip looking out the window. John was avoiding telling him more and Paul didn’t want to start this off with a row so dropped it. John looked worried and he just had to be there for his friend.

“Not sure, maybe because you didn’t want to waste your money on buying two of everything.” Paul smiled loosely.

“Who said I was paying for you this time?” John quipped, making them both laugh.

At Paul’s house, Paul filled a bag with three days worth of clothes, a notebook, pen and sandwich which his father had made one for both of them. 

  
  


March - 1967

Paul was back in the control room at Abbey Road Studios. 

“If I hadn’t shown up at your door, would you have come back?” Paul said the words slowly to make sure John heard him loud and clear. Paul knew John had understood.

John looked away, “probably at some point.”

George Martin arrived in the studio and waved through the glass at them both. John nodded at George, Paul didn’t even notice. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” Paul’s eyes threatened to produce tears.

No reply. 

“John!”

“I tried to but you didn’t understand, doesn’t matter now anyway” John fake smiled “I’m still here aren’t I?” He took a pen and scrap bit of paper back into the studio with him. 

Paul rushed through the door and bumped into George. “Oh, sorry.” 

“It’s okay, you alright?” George Martin asked.

Paul’s face was red, he was annoyed at John for making everything difficult. But he knew he had to drop it for now. “Yeah, yeah, just need some air. You alright?” 

“I’m grand, don’t be gone too long” 

“I won't,” Paul replied while glaring at John. 

He grabbed his coat from the chair, he felt John’s eyes on him as he left. Paul lit a cigarette and threw down his coat to sit on, on steps into the building. The air was cold and the floor damp. 

_‘I tried to but you didn’t understand’ what does that even mean? Of course he would understand, it’s John!_

Paul had overlooked something John had said, he knew it. 

He focused on his breathing, slowing it down. 

“Paul?” George smirked as he went up the steps, “Must be smoking something good.”

Ringo was following him. George must have said something before Paul had realised he was there. 

“Mornin’” Ringo greeted him. Paul just smiled weakly. 

Ringo lingered on the steps, sensing that Paul wasn’t okay but didn’t say a word and continued walking in. 

Paul sighed, did John not trust him anymore? 

Paul stayed out until he felt his cigarette burning his fingers, he’d totally forgotten about it. He flicked the stub into the driveway and stood up, grabbing his coat, he felt calmer but he just wanted to talk to John privately and get some answers. He walked back into the studio.

“Nine minutes late” John quipped while looking at his watch, tapping his index finger on the glass. “George said you sat out smoking, you know you can do that in ‘ere? It’s not a fucking church.”

Paul chose not to respond and just went back over to the piano where the cause of this had started. There was a scrap of paper on the piano shelf, John’s scribbled writing read _‘she is leaving home, after living alone, for so many years’_. Paul glanced at John and smiled. 

“Well, you seemed pretty transfixed by it so” John shrugged and walked over. 

Paul felt there was more meaning there than just John writing about Melanie Coe. He’d ask him when they were alone again. 

Writing the song could wait until later, they needed to do some more takes for the album right now. Paul asked John if he wanted to stay late and write it then, John had agreed. 

  
  


August - 1960

John and Paul had gone to a petrol station in hope of a ride to ‘anywhere really’, after a few declines they got into a van that was heading for Wales. The boys had looked at each other and mentally agreed that Wales had sounded like a good place to go.

The man driving was quite nice, but didn’t talk much. John was sat closest to the window and Paul in the middle next to the man, David. John leant his head against the glass slowly letting his eyes droop. The buildings were replaced by open green spaces as they travelled further away.

“Got anywhere to stay?” The man asked.

“Not yet, just going to see what’s available I think” Paul answered. 

“Ah well there’s a nice bed and breakfast that’s on the seafront in Rhyl” David smiled “I’ll be passing through there anyway”

“That sounds perfect,” John replied, his eyes still closed. 

As they entered the town of Rhyl the sun brightened, families were walking down to the beach carrying multi colored windbreakers and deck chairs. Children were waiting with parents in line for ice creams. The smell of the Irish Sea reminding Paul of family holidays, he couldn’t help but smile. John had woken up now and was looking at all the people on the beach, his lips tugging at the corners too.

David dropped them off on the seafront and pointed out which B&B he had meant. Paul followed John into the building and they got the last twin room. 

When they got into the room John threw his bag down on the bed nearest the window and looked out the big bay window overlooking the sea. “Well that’s a view” 

Paul walked forward and stood next to him, nodding. 

“We going down then?” Paul asked, sounding like a child who just wanted to run and play on the sand.

“In a few” John nudged Paul “we’ve only just got here!” 

John and Paul both started unpacking their things, Paul glanced over at John’s bag. He saw family pictures in frames and several books _. How long was he planning on staying?_

“I was going to tell you y’know” John said, _could he read minds?_

“Yeah, yeah, I know” Paul looked at John in the eye. “You-“ Paul paused. “You are alright yeah?”

John sighed “am alright, just needed time to think” John closed his bag hiding the items in it.

“John”. 

John’s eyes snapped up to Paul’s. 

“How long were you planning on leaving for?”

John shrugged. 

“John, please” 

“Just a few weeks, I er just haven’t been feeling myself recently an- oh I don’t know” John paused looking at Paul who was silently telling him to continue. 

“‘Av just been feeling kinda um different to everyone else recently, an’ I know that sounds big headed but not like that just I can’t seem to relate to most people. But then you just get me, I think so anyway, an’ I think you’re the same or at least I hope so.” John’s eyes had trailed down to the floor, his cheeks turning pink. 

Paul didn’t completely get what he had meant but offered John a reassuring touch on his arm, which then turned into a quick hug. “I think you get me too,” Paul replied as they pulled away from each other. John smiled at that. Paul was happy that his friend had opened up to him.

They continued to unpack, John dug into his bag and pulled out a framed picture of his mother and put it on the bedside table. At that moment John looked like a little boy who just needed his mum to be there and listen. Paul could relate there - _oh! That’s got to be what John meant, right?_

  
  
  


March - 1967

John and Paul were the only ones left in the studio, John had written out the rest of the chorus and Paul was working on the second verse. 

“The piano doesn’t work with the song” Paul commented. 

“Mm yeah” 

They both sighed as they’d got the words and the general feeling of the song down but knew they weren’t finished with it. 

Paul looked down at his watch.

“It’s 8 already?” Paul closed the piano and folded the newspaper up and put his and John’s lyrics on top of it. “told Jane I’d be back at 4” 

John placed his hand on Paul’s arm in a mocking sympathetic way, “Good luck” John chuckled. 

The action of his hand reminded Paul of John in the B&B in Rhyl, Paul needed to know what John had meant then, he felt guilty for not asking him more at the time.

“What didn’t I understand then?” Paul basically whispered.

Paul didn’t get a reply straight away. 

John moved his arm away from Paul. 

“Why did you feel different from other people?” Paul pushed.

“I still do” John’s eyes met Paul’s.

“Why though? Tell me” Paul made sure his voice didn’t sound like he was pleading. 

“Don’t you have to rush home to Jane?” John asked, picking up his coat. 

Paul kept his eyes on John, his eyes begging for John to reply. 

“I’m not normal alright!” John snapped. 

Paul was taken aback, but kept calm knowing that John needed his friend to be there for him properly this time. 

“You can trust me, John” Paul reassured his friend.

“I-“ John’s eyes were filling, threatening to overflow. 

Paul didn’t rush him, he just waited. 

“I-I think I’m like Eppy” John’s hands were clenched into fists, tears falling down his face. 

Paul nodded, showing he understood, he reached out to John, at first John stepped back but then allowed Paul to place a comforting hand on John’s arm before pulling him into a hug. Paul’s mind was racing, it was a lot to process in a short time. He knew he had to say something but he wanted it to be the right thing. To let his friend know that everything would be okay. Whatever Paul was feeling he knew John would be feeling double that. Paul softly rubbed John’s back and felt him relax slowly.

“That’s alright y’know” Paul pulled back from John. “I’m glad you trust me, sorry I didn’t understand before”

John quickly smiled and looked away.

“an’ I already know you aren’t normal but it’s nothing to do with that” Paul joked.

John pulled Paul in for a second hug and gently whispered “thank you.”

  
  
  


August - 1960

John and Paul sat amongst the families on the sand, the only people without deckchairs but they didn’t care.

John had his Buddy Holly glasses on and a loose shirt that was slightly unbuttoned showing his vest underneath. He was reading while Paul just watched the waves while eating the sandwich that his dad had made for him. The weather wasn’t overly hot or cool, it was just right to enjoy their little get away together.

“Feels like a proper holiday this y’know” Paul mused.

“That’s because it is” John pushed his glasses up his nose.

Paul watched as John got engrossed in his book, he felt the need to sit up beside him and pester him, to hold him, to feel his body against his own, to feel his lips- _No, stop it. You need to stop thinking like that, what would John think if he knew how you felt?_

Paul quickly snapped out of that head space and stood up, “You want an ice cream?”

“Why you asking? Of course I want an ice cream” John looked up at him, their eyes connecting. Paul suddenly felt exposed, like John knew.

“You want a ninety-nine?” Paul asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant. 

“Yes please!” John shouted. Knowing that people would look over at the two of them, he was trying to embarrass Paul.

Paul didn’t react and chose to just walk towards the ice cream van. He queued with the children, sort of feeling like one. 

Paul walked back to John with two ninety-nine ice creams with flakes and strawberry sauce, one was practically covered in sauce because he knew it was John’s favourite. 

Paul offered John his ice cream, John smiled “oo extra strawberry, someone is trying to get in my good books.”

  
  
  


March - 1967

Paul had offered John to come back to his house, to let him know that he didn’t feel any differently about his friend. John had refused saying he was very tired.

Paul walked home, as it started to rain he quickened his pace. Thankfully because of the rain nobody recognised him which he was thankful for as he was already late home. 

He opened the front door and kicked off his shoes “hello!”, he checked his watch. 8:45. Crap. There was no reply. Paul shut the door and walked down the hall into the kitchen, Jane had left a plate with Paul’s supper on it. There was a note on the table that read, _‘Please call me if you’re going to be late. I’ve gone home - Jane x’._

Paul sighed, he’d been such an arse, he noted to call Jane after eating something. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was. 

Picking at the potatoes and vegetables on the plate there was a knock at the front door. He was prepared to be met by Jane as he opened the door. 

“Sorr-oh hello” Paul said as he opened the door to find John with his hands in his pockets and head angled down. Paul stepped to the side, John stepped in and instantly looked lost in the space. 

“You alright?” Paul asked, closing the door and turning to face John.

“I-I can’t go back home, Cyn doesn’t know,” John said near tears. 

“Well that’s alright, shall I call her and say we’re writing or somethin’?” Paul offered, “y’know you can stay here” 

John nodded not meeting Paul’s eyes.

“I can make you an omelette, if you want?” Paul smiled as John looked up.

John headed into the kitchen as Paul picked up the phone in the hall. 

“Hi Cyn, it’s Paul”

“Hello, is John with you?” Cynthia asked.

“Yes he’s here, we’re going to write some songs tonight.” Paul felt bad for lying to her. She was lovely but this wasn’t for Paul to say.

“Oh that’s fine, thank you for letting me know.”

They both said their goodbyes, and Paul dialled the phone again to call Jane.

“Hello?”

“Hi it’s Paul, look I’m really sorry about not calling. I just lost track of time y’know” Paul apologised. 

“You always forget about me” Jane sounded so different.

“No I don’t” Paul replied, there was some truth in her words but Paul couldn’t admit that yet. 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow” Jane said before putting the phone down. 

Paul put the phone down and rested his head against the wall. Jane’s words were true but he couldn’t tell her and ruin everything. Or would it be best just to say she was right? The truth was that when he knew he should be thinking about what she was doing, what she was wearing, if she was laughing, if she was thinking about him, this space in his head was filled with John. Paul’s head had been overtaken by John, every minute he was wondering about what he was doing, thinking, saying. Paul sighed. _‘I think you’re the same or at least I hope so’_ John’s words from seven years ago filled his head. The memory of the trip so vivid in his head. In Rhyl had John meant- John hoped that Paul was too.

Paul walked back into the kitchen to find John eating the rest of his vegetables. 

“Can’t be good if Jane’s gone home” John commented as he pushed the note along the table towards Paul.

“Mm you can say that again.” 

Floorboards creaked from upstairs and the patter continued down the stairs, Martha bounded into the kitchen.

“Martha!” John’s face lit up immediately.

Martha must have been sleeping on Paul’s bed, like usual. 

John got off his chair and sat on the floor next to Martha. Paul smiled at the scene. Martha was licking his hand making John chuckle. 

Paul started making an omelette for John and joined his dog and John on the floor while he was waiting for the egg to cook.

“Hard life sleeping all day, isn’t it?” Paul petted Martha on her head making John smirk.

“I’m sure she does lots while you’re out, I’ve seen her down the shop stocking up the cupboards” John was messing about with Martha’s fur, fluffing it up. 

“Oh, have you now?” Paul tapped his finger gently on Martha’s nose. Martha looked at Paul and licked his face. Paul pulled back laughing. John smiled. 

  
  


Paul served up John’s omelette onto the table. John picked up a knife and fork, Martha was looking up at John from under the table, clearly wanting to catch any crumbs. 

“You want to talk about anything?” Paul asked simply, taking a place next to John at the table.

John put the cutlery down after his last mouthful.

“I think I’ve told you enough this evening if I’m honest” John smirked weakly. 

Paul hummed. 

“Anything _you_ want to talk about?” John shifted the focus on to Paul. 


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such a lovely response! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm not sure if I will continue or leave it as is. Depends if I get anymore ideas :)

August - 1960

The day passed quickly, John and Paul were headed towards the local pub near where they were staying in Rhyl. The weather had got a lot colder as the sun had gone down. Orange light from the streetlights shone down on them, Paul noted that the colour matched John’s hair. Paul smiled at that.

“What were you writing down before?” John asked as they crossed the street.

“Just a few ideas for songs, we can work on them when we get back” Paul shrugged, “they aren’t good like yours.”

“Paul” John stopped Paul and him in the eye. “Don’t act like mine are better, I don’t need the ego boost, alright” John smirked before continuing down the pavement. John always knew how to make Paul feel better.

Paul jogged to catch up. The street was quite quiet, distorted voices coming from inside the pub was all that filled the air. The dingy windows were illuminated showing silhouettes of laughing people. 

“I don’t think many tourists are in tonight” Paul commented.

John opened the pub door “After you.” John chuckled.

Paul stepped in, a warmth hit him instantly. The pub had two fires lit either side of the big room, the crackle of the fire was very homely. The air was filled with both stale smoke and the smell of alcohol. Paul looked back to see John taking his jacket off and his cheeks already had a pink tint to them. 

“Pint?” Paul asked, taking his coat off too. 

John nodded while looking around for a table. Paul walked up to the bar and waited for two other people to be served first. 

“Two pints of lager, please” Paul smiled weakly.

The man behind the bar poured and placed the glasses on the counter. “That’ll be £1.40” 

Paul shoved a hand in his pocket and rushed to find the right change and placed it next to the pints. “Cheers” replied before picking up the glasses and trying to spot John in the surprisingly busy pub. A hand raised from the corner waving him over. Paul smiled and walked over. 

John was sitting on a bench that snugly fitted into an alcove in the wall. Paul placed the pints down on the table and sat on a creaky chair opposite John. Paul put his coat on the back of his chair.

“You made me get the first round so you could get a better seat didn’t you?” Paul asked before taking a sip of his lager, keeping his eyes on John.

“How dare you accuse me of such things” John feigned hurt as he leant back on the cushions and smirked at him. 

They both drank and looked at the other people in the pub, mostly middle aged men with their wives telling them to behave. Near the bar there were a few other people who didn’t look like they fitted in either, presumably because they weren’t Welsh too. 

John put a cigarette between his lips “You going to show me the songs then?” The cigarette moved as he spoke, Paul tried not to stare. 

Paul copied John’s action and got himself a cigarette out too, John reached over the table flicking his lighter open and ran his thumb over the wheel, lighting Paul's cigarette for him.

“I know you brought your notebook with you” John cut Paul off before he opened his mouth.

Paul inhaled smoke and exhaled downwards, he reached into his pocket pulling out the book and placing it on the table. 

John flicked through the book, Paul wasn’t sure if it was the fire or the thought of John reading ideas for songs that made him blush. The corner of John’s lips tugged into a smile, relaxing Paul instantly. 

“I like the one you wrote today” John said while looking at the words, thankfully he still had his glasses on. “You saw a pretty bird on the beach then? You kept that quiet.” John’s smile turned into a smirk. John didn’t mention Paul's obvious embarrassment.

“Mm yeah” Paul didn’t sound that confident “you’d of seen her if you looked up from your book” Paul smiled. 

They discussed Paul’s lyrics a bit longer while sipping their drinks. Both of them now on their third pint. 

“It’s meant to piss it down tomorrow” John commented, “should we see what’s on at the pictures?”

Paul nodded, his head was resting on his hand, trying to not look tired. 

“Speaking of” Paul got up smiling and went through a door that led to the gents toilets. There were a few men standing at the urinals, Paul didn’t fancy squeezing between them.

Paul walked over to the cubicles and pushed a door open to see two men with their hands in each other’s hair and lips connected, Paul stood there transfixed. One of the men noticed him and the realisation washed over their faces. Paul snapped out of it, closing the door on them and rushed into the next cubicle. He locked himself in and rested his head on the door. The image of the men was swirling around his head, his cheeks darkened as his thoughts changed to John. The thought of feeling John’s lips against his own. What Paul wanted was  _ illegal _ . Paul rubbed his face and pushed the thoughts away. 

After using the toilet and walking over to the sink to wash his hands, he noticed one of the men came out of the cubicle, Paul looked around realising that it was just the three of them now. 

“Here” the man held out a £5 note. Paul didn’t understand at first. “Take it” the man snapped.

Paul took the money, feeling guilty but he guessed they wanted the security of him not talking about it. Paul nodded and shoved the money in his pocket, before quickly leaving. 

He saw that the table was empty, just two glasses with white foam at the bottom of the glasses and water rings on the wooden table. Paul took the opportunity to take John’s comfy seat. Paul had to try and act normal now. John came back to the table carrying two more pints, he rolled his eyes “Really? Nicking my seat?” 

Paul forced a smile and took his glass, taking a big gulp. 

“That chair isn’t comfy, can you blame me?” Paul raised an eyebrow. 

John sat down and the chair creaked, “you wanting to leave?” John asked as he watched Paul drink another sip, obviously rushing.

Paul nodded, looking up to find the two men from the toilets stood by the bar. He darted his eyes away. John who was watching turned to try and see what Paul had looked at. 

“Stop” Paul whispered.

John turned back to face him, connecting their eyes in an intense stare. John was trying to read Paul. The younger shifted under his gaze, feeling his stomach sink. 

They both finished their drinks and put their coats on to leave. The crisp air hit them as they walked down the road that led on to the seafront, the sound of laughing and talking subsided. 

John glanced at Paul and snapped his head back forward. 

John glanced back again this time Paul met his glance. John leaned close to Paul. Paul’s breath catching in his throat. 

“ Gonna tell Aunt Mary 'bout Uncle John!” John sang loudly in Paul’s face, playfully shoving him a bit before running down the steps that led on to the beach. 

“He claims he has the music, but he has a lot of fun!” John continued singing Long Tall Sally. Paul laughed and ran after his friend. 

“ Oh baby! Yes baby!” Paul sang and chased after John, running along where the waves met the sand, their shoes getting wet and the salt water splashing up their legs. 

John tripped over a stone and fell into the shallow water, Paul laughed out of breath above him. The distant orange light from the road just making John’s face visible, wet sand dusted his cheek and strands of hair stuck to his face. Paul knew better than to offer a hand to John, he didn’t want to get pulled into the water. John smirked at him before splashing water at Paul. He returned the favour by kicking some water at John. 

“Get up you idiot” Paul giggled. 

John jumped up, nearly falling back down in the process. He grabbed on to Paul not wanting to fall back down. John was now standing in front of Paul, without realising it Paul’s hand found its way to John’s cheek. He gently brushed off the sand from his friend's face. John smiled, his eyes not leaving Paul’s. Paul moved his hand gently down John’s face, his thumb lingering on John’s lips, just for a second. 

“You’re so cold” Paul commented before stepping back from John. 

John shrugged, “the hotel is only five minutes away” John dug into his pocket and got out a damp packet of cigarettes. 

“Well they aren’t going to light” Paul told John before offering John one of his own. Suddenly John didn’t look so steady on his feet. “Come on,” Paul said while putting his arm around John’s shoulders and guiding him back to the road. 

“Fish and chips?” Paul asked, spotting a chippy light flashing just down the road. Clearly still open for when everyone left the pub. 

  
  
  


March - 1967 

“Anything  _ you  _ want to talk about?” John shifted the focus on to Paul. 

Paul felt the familiar feeling of his stomach sinking and breathing seemed harder. There were lots of things that he wanted to say, needed to say. John would understand, one of the few that would. 

“I get what you mean y’know” Paul managed to say, his voice quiet even in his own head. Martha moved under the table and came to sit next to Paul’s leg, nuzzling her snout next to his hand.  _ Did that even make sense? Would John just understand without him having to say it?  _ John sat there, his face hadn’t changed. 

Paul thought back to John’s words in the studio, how John had phrased it somehow made it less scary. 

“I don’t think I’m er normal either” Paul whispered, Paul was gripping his own thigh and looking down. 

John reached his hand to touch Paul’s, he softened his grip on his thigh. Suddenly Paul stood up, John’s hand slipped away, he nearly fell over Martha. Normally they would chuckle about something like that, but Paul felt like he’d lost that ability right now. 

“It’s okay-” John smiled weakly. 

“John, it’s illegal!” Paul said louder than he intended, surprising himself. 

“What happened to you being understanding?” John searched his eyes and then sighed, “It’s okay to be scared, it is scary. But we trust each other.” 

Paul felt tears starting to fall, he used the back of his hand to wipe them away. Without saying a word he picked up John’s plate and put it in the sink. Paul then filled the kettle and set it to boil, turning back towards John. 

“Sorry”

“‘S alright” John was leant over Martha, his chin on top of her head. 

Paul made two cups of coffee, forgetting what time of the day it was. He made sure John’s was sweet enough. 

“See what’s on telly?” Paul suggested. 

John nodded and stood up, “You hear that Martha?” making his voice sound like he was excited. Martha started jumping and wagging her tail. “Where we going?”

Paul let himself smile. 

Paul followed John into the living room, both carrying a cup. John made himself at home on the sofa, while Paul turned the TV on, not caring what came on. Paul sat next to John while Martha settled between their feet. 

The only light in the room was from the TV, the titles to Ben Hur filled the room with a yellow glow. 

They looked at each other, seeing each other as teenagers.

  
  


August - 1960

Paul scrunched his face up as the room became brighter, he heard a snore from just next to him. Paul’s mouth was dry and his head felt heavy. Stretching he found that John had been closer than he had realised, in the same bed. Thankfully he hadn’t coaxed John from his slumber. John was wrapped in the bed sheets and his still damp clothes in a pile on the floor. Paul’s head was fogged with confusion. On the bedside table was a newspaper that had a few chips left in it and a glass of water.

Paul sat up and had a big gulp then grabbed a change of clothes and went into the bathroom, he shut the door quietly not wanting to wake John up. Paul undressed and got into the shower, the water wouldn’t get warm, Paul’s skin became covered in goosebumps as he started to shake. He was now feeling much more awake. 

His thoughts went back to last night, when he and John came back from the chippy and sat on Paul’s bed laughing, stealing looks at John as he had removed his wet clothes and curled up under his bed sheets, the thought never crossed his mind to get into John’s empty bed. Thinking further back to his thumb brushing John’s lip. Seeing those two men kissing. 

Paul turned the shower off and he grabbed a towel and snuggled up into it, trying to get warm again. Water dripped down from his hair onto his face and neck. His body was mostly dry now, Paul used the towel to dry his hair and got changed into his fresh clothes. 

He went back into the bedroom and picked up John’s damp clothes from the floor and hung them over the radiator. If John was awake and saw him he’d have said something like “that’s where i wanted my clothes, mother!” Paul smiled to himself. The word ‘mother’ still hurt them both but was nice to hear John say it.

Paul saw his watch on the floor and realised that the served breakfast was about to end. He quickly rushed downstairs and grabbed both himself and John something to eat and drink, he got a few funny looks as his hair was both wet and a mess. 

He carried the plates and cups on a tray up the stairs and into his and John’s room. John was sitting up now. Paul knew why, it was because he had accidentally slammed the door on his way out. 

“Mornin’” Paul smiled.

John groaned, his hair was sticking up at the back which made Paul stifle a laugh. 

Paul placed the tray between them on the bed and picked up his jam toast, taking a bite. John grabbed the orange juice and acted like he hadn’t drank for a whole day.

“The chips last night were salty” John commented. 

“You were the one who added more,” Paul smiled thinking about John being drunk in the chippy demanding more salt and vinegar on his chips over and over again.

They both sat in comfortable silence while eating their breakfast, Paul had bought John a bowl of porridge with golden syrup. John ate slowly as this probably wasn’t the best food for a hangover. 

“You still want to go to the pictures?” John asked, looking hopeful. 

Paul glanced outside at the rain flowing down the window panes. He had wished for another day on the beach but any time with John would be enjoyable. 

“Yeah, can do.”

They finished their meal and got ready to leave, Paul waited for John who spent quite a while trying to flatten the back of his hair. 

“Water and a comb should work,” Paul said before John walked back into the room, the back of John’s hair was wet and still wasn’t falling correctly. 

“Don’t mention it,” John snapped. 

Paul bit his lip making sure not to laugh. He handed John a towel. John used the towel in a final attempt to keep his hair flat-ish. Paul wanted nothing more than just to run his hands through John’s auburn hair. 

John and Paul set off for the picture house, the walk through Rhyl seemed longer, maybe it was because this time they weren’t running. They both took down their hoods as they entered the cinema. 

The next screening was for Ben Hur so they paid and went into the dark room and chose two seats in the middle but near the back, there were only a few people in the screening. The screen suddenly became alive and poured a bright light over them. John glanced at Paul and then his eyes looked back at the screen. Paul couldn’t remember when it had happened but their hands were entwined on the arm rest, it felt so natural. John’s coarse fingertips from playing guitar were delicately running over the back of Paul’s hand. 

Paul didn’t dare take his eyes off the screen, not wanting anything to change. 

  
  


March - 1967

Paul fitted his hand into John’s, he looked away from the screen this time to see John’s face. John was already looking back at him. Things had to be different this time, Paul wanted to make sure it would be.

“I don’t feel alone anymore,” John said genuinely. Paul thought back to John’s lyric ‘She’s leaving home, after living alone, for so many years.’

Paul smiled, “you aren’t alone.”

John leaned closer and grazed his lips against Paul’s cheek, softly kissing and slowly moving towards Paul’s mouth. His moustache tickling Paul, they both couldn’t help but smile. 

John pulled back slightly so he was able to see Paul properly, checking this was okay. Paul let go of John’s hand and ran his hands through his hair resting at John’s neck, his thumbs rubbing in soft circles. Letting John know that this was what he wanted.

John captured Paul’s lips eagerly, moving together as teeth clashed. John’s hands rested on Paul’s hips. They held each other gently.

After what felt like hours John pulled away, his lips glistening. He lay back along the sofa, curling up leaving space behind him for Paul. He moved behind John and rested an arm over him pulling him closer. 

“I’ve never managed to watch this film properly,” John smirked, “your fault.” 

Paul smiled. 

“Not my fault if you can’t take your eyes off me” Paul whispered. Their eyes met.

Martha sat up and pawed at the sofa cushion “Come on then” Paul patted the small amount of space in front of John. 

Before he could do anything John disappeared underneath a mass amount of fur. They chuckled. John blew away hair from his face “Martha!” John joked. Paul was giggling now.

Martha settled down, her paws dangling over the edge of the cushion. 

“What took us so long?” John turned to face Paul, he was suddenly very serious.

Paul shrugged before snuggling up against John, “Guess we’re both just stupid” 

He felt John smile against him. 

“Something like that,” John said before kissing up Paul’s neck.

Paul started to think that this would change everything, or maybe it wouldn’t? Would John just go back to Cynthia, a last attempt to make it work between them? What would Paul do just wait for odd days that John could come around again? End it with Jane? 

This was something to worry about later, John was here right now, all over him in fact. Paul noted to talk about this later with John, see if he could have some of his questions answered. Paul couldn't think straight anymore, not once John started to touch his now bare skin and his teeth grazed Paul's neck.


End file.
